This Is The Hour
by lisbon99
Summary: Ten years is a long time. It's only natural for Teresa Lisbon, on her anniversary, to wonder: 'what next' ? Spoilers & speculation for 5.13 'The Red Barn'. Some light Lisbon/Jane UST.


**Disclaimer**: Property of Bruno Heller (*hiss*)

**Summary**: Ten years is a long time. It's only natural for Teresa Lisbon to think 'what next?' [Spoilers & speculation for 5.13 'The Red Barn'. Some Lisbon/Jane UST.]

**Author's Notes**: This is purely speculative stuff re: 5x13 & Lisbon's job offer. Although I intended to keep it case-light, mainly because I don't know much about the case, it did end up featuring a little bit – I have fudged the details. I felt compelled to post this because the scenario captured my imagination; of course, after Sunday it'll probably all be proved wrong! Still, I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as well.

* * *

She was stuck in traffic, and for once she was grateful. Her fingers traced the fine ridges of her steering wheel absent-mindedly as she allowed herself to ponder what had just happened.

Ray Haffner wasn't a stupid man, evidently. Her tenth anniversary with the CBI was the perfect day to approach her with his offer. It was a day that naturally led her to contemplate her professional past and future – to look back at her ambitions and think about what she still wanted.

She wasn't the type of person to make a five year plan, or to choose the highest possible position of power and aim for it single-mindedly. She'd started out flexible, knowing that she would have to work hard and take the opportunities as they came. She'd been lucky, she reflected. To be offered a job at the CBI while still only a detective at the SFPD – and from there, fast-tracked to a unit leader? She could never have imagined it, even in her wildest dreams.

But even then, on her first day in charge of the SCU, she had vowed not to get too cocky or reach too high. There were any number of places and positions available to her, with her service record, but she knew she wouldn't get anywhere without devoting time to her unit and to the agency.

It was with a certain degree of remorse that she now looked back at her former self – so determined to be flexible and wait to see what opportunities might arise.

Because, naturally, it had all gone to hell in a handbasket with the arrival of Patrick 'Poking _All_ The Bears' Jane.

Ahead, the lights were changing, but nobody was moving. From all around her rose a cacophony of noise. The guy next to her levered his torso up out of the window of his bright red Ferrari. "Move, assholes," he bellowed. She watched him from the relative height of her SUV with some amusement. He caught sight of her and tossed her a wink; she smiled briefly in return.

She wouldn't blame Jane for what she now regarded as her fairly limited career options. After all, hadn't she been the one to encourage him to stay on and utilise his skills? Hadn't she given him increasing freedom to do what he wanted – what was _necessary_ to catch the killers of people who deserved justice? Of course she had, and she would do it again.

That didn't mean she liked the consequences, however.

She knew that certain doors were now closed to her. It didn't matter that the SCU had the kind of numbers that made directors weep and brought politicians to their knees. She would forever be the team leader who had signed on with a crackpot and then allowed him to rampage freely across California, upsetting apple carts and far more. To them, she was a crackpot as well. A liability, letting herself be led by her heart.

The car in front of her crept forward just a little. She didn't even bother following. They were obviously going to be here for a while – she might as well go to the coffee shop to use the facilities and stock up.

She barely noticed other people following her lead as she hopped out of the SUV and locked it. Some headed for the convenience store on the corner; she waved at the guy behind the counter of the coffee shop as she headed for the restroom.

She took the opportunity to study her reflection as she washed her hands. The signs of age were beginning to show, she thought. Sure, she could hide them a little with makeup. If she smiled, it made her look younger, but she could hardly go around beaming all the time.

'Honestly,' she thought, staring at herself, '_what do you want?'_

Truthfully, she didn't think she knew any more. Some days, as she'd once said to Jane, a closed case was enough. As for the rest of the time…

In the coffee shop, she cast a glance outside to make sure the cars weren't moving, and joined the line. She glanced at her phone, and found a text from Haffner. 'I know you were just being polite when you said you'd think about it, but seriously – consider this one, Lisbon. You'll have to move on someday. At least do it on your own terms.'

That stung only a little. He was right, of course. Some day, the choice might be taken from her – by her boss, by a bullet, maybe by someone she'd never even met.

Obviously, she'd rather retain that power if she could. She could admit – not freely, but to herself at least – that she preferred to control her own life as far as possible. That the thought of being under someone else's thumb was deeply unpleasant. Haffner knew her – not well, but enough. He'd known that what he was offering wasn't just a job, it was a way to take the reins of her own life back, to kick everybody else to the kerb and start forging her own path again.

For that reason alone, she was tempted.

She reached the head of the line and considered her options briefly. "I'll take a large black coffee," she said, ignoring the menu descriptions. "And a bear claw."

She'd considered getting drinks and pastries for everybody, but who knew how long she'd be in this jam? There was no way her bladder could hold drinks intended for five separate people (and it would have to, in that scenario, because she certainly wouldn't let them go to waste).

She felt a soft tap on her shoulder, and turned to find Ferrari Guy standing behind her. "Hey," he said. "From, uh, bef - ?"

"Before," she finished, with a half-grin. "Hi." He was good-looking, she supposed. He had that chiselled jaw thing going on, and muscles that were clearly intended to be highlighted by his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. That said, his eyes had a softness to them that she didn't expect from someone whose narcissism prompted them to drive a bright red Ferrari.

"Uh, Kurt," he said, holding out his hand. "You're pretty small for a bear claw," he added, gesturing to the pastries on display. "I mean, those things are whoppers. You really think you can eat a whole one?"

She blinked at him, a little taken aback. "Are you kidding? I could eat three, no problem."

He stared at her face, then her stomach, then her face again. "No," he said flatly, "you couldn't. No way."

She was half-amused, half-bristling indignantly, and covered her belly protectively with one hand. "OK, I don't know about your wimpy stomach, but –"

Her phone rang, and she rolled her eyes. "Lisbon," she said, digging in her pocket for money with her free hand as the barista placed her cup on the counter.

"Where are you?" Jane demanded. "I'm saving all my best deductions until you get here, but the corpses are starting to smell..."

She only half-heard him, because Kurt was reaching over her to pay for her coffee and pastry. "No," she hissed at him, making wide slicing motions with her hand. He ignored her and paid anyway. She glared at him. "Jane, I'll call you back," she said, and hung up.

To Kurt, she said, "What did you do that for?"

He gave her an odd look. "Have you been living under a rock? It's what guys do when they meet beautiful women in coffee shops."

She spluttered gracelessly for a few moments, colour blossoming on her cheeks. It was only when he thanked the barista for his own order that she saw he'd purchased two extra bear claws. "Oh, no," she groaned. "You're one of those guys, aren't you? A weird food fetish guy. Well, I've got news for you, mister – I'm a cop. You try _any_ of that funny stuff with me –"

"Wow, lady, you have some serious trust issues," he cut her off, opening the coffee shop door for her. "If you can eat three, you should eat three. Why hold back?" He thrust the bag into her hands. "And no, I don't wanna watch, if that's what you're worried about."

She paused by the side of her SUV. The road had become a car graveyard; the owners were taking time to enjoy the bright, warm sunlight, preferring to stand in the road to drink their coffees. "Well," she said slowly, "uh, thanks, I guess."

He grinned, leaning against his car. "You never told me your name."

She hesitated, then thought, '_screw it'_. "Teresa," she replied. Gesturing to the Ferrari, she continued, "Is that really yours?"

He shook his head. "My brother's. He's into all that 'fast car, fast living' crap. He wants me to drive it out to him in Glendale because he's going on a date, and get this, his suit 'doesn't _go_ with the Lexus'."

She snorted involuntarily. Up ahead, she could hear the sounds of car doors slamming and engines revving. "Wow, that was quick," she muttered.

Kurt pushed himself away from the car, coming to stand a few steps in front of her. "Listen," he said hurriedly, "I know I must seem like some creep, but... I'd really like to take you out to dinner sometime. Could I...?" He fumbled around in his pocket, coming up with a wrinkled scrap of paper. He scribbled something on it. "Uh, here's my number. Maybe, if you still feel hungry after those bear claws, we could meet later? Or, you know, whenever. Just - well, call me."

She took the paper slowly, lips pulling into a genuine smile. "Sure," she said, not sure whether she really meant it or not.

A horn honked behind them. "Hey lovebirds," someone shouted, "go flirt somewhere else, we wanna move!"

"See you," she said, climbing into the SUV. She was just firing the engine when she heard her name. She leaned over to see Kurt halfway out of the window again, just as he had been earlier.

"Hey," he said, "so no pressure or anything, but you kinda have to go out with me."

"Oh really?" she said incredulously. "And why is that?"

He grinned. "Because that piece of paper is my dry cleaning ticket."

She gaped at him as he drove off, oblivious to the increasing frenzy of horns behind her. _What a… _Well, she didn't know quite what, but something.

Still – she was acutely aware of the smile that persisted even as she drove toward what had been promised to be a gruesome crime scene.

* * *

Jane was mad at her.

Mad – at her!

She had nine years' worth of irony to throw in his face, but honestly, she was in such a good mood – and that, evidently, just annoyed him even more.

"I've been saving this for _you_, Lisbon," he was whining. "I can't believe you hung up on me."

"I was stuck in traffic," she said, for the fifth time.

"Yes," he sniped, "traffic that sounded suspiciously like a coffee shop and a handsome man."

"Hey," she said quickly, "knock it off. You really think I'd abandon a case for a date?"

His foot scuffed the ground. "No," he conceded grumpily. "But your date might well make you think twice about it."

She rolled her eyes, draining the last of the coffee. "There was no date. Honestly, Jane, I thought you were supposed to be good at this."

He stopped dead in front of her and turned, a scowl twisting his face. "Challenging me, now, Lisbon?" he said softly. "You ought to know better. All right – sure, you were stuck in traffic, that's not a lie. Must have been a heck of a jam, too, if it could prompt you to leave the car. So – full bladder, you head into the restroom because – well, priorities. You must have met this attention-grabbing man in the coffee shop, then. You're not the kind of woman who starts talking to the guy in the next car; in fact, you'd probably roll the window up and glare until he went away. So – he starts talking to you, obviously, because who wouldn't? And… you liked him."

She held his gaze, unflinching.

Something flickered in his eyes, just for a second, and he continued. "It was him you spoke to while on the phone to me. He's asked you out… and you're thinking about it. A lot, in fact. Your hand keeps going to your pocket, and I know you only keep money and your phone in there, sometimes not even that." He frowned at her, scrutinising her face carefully. "But that's not all. That's not even half of it."

He kept staring at her silently, until she began to feel uneasy. "Jane? Hello?"

He shook his head slowly, strangely distant. "A lie within a lie, Lisbon. How… worrying."

A chill settled around her heart as she realised that he genuinely believed she was lying to him. And worse, the fact that he could not deduce the nature of the lie was… scaring him.

"Jane," she said, voice thick in her throat, "will you pay attention? I haven't lied to you. You've been doing the talking, remember? Why don't you just _ask_ me instead of acting crazy."

He flinched noticeably. "All right," he said, eventually. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Well, you were right about meeting the guy in the coffee shop. And yeah, whatever, he asked me out –" she glanced away to hide her embarrassment, missing the faint smile on his face as he studied her features, "and he was… I don't know. Nice, I guess. I mean, how would I know? I talked to him for maybe ten minutes." Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she turned back to Jane. "Anyway, that wasn't the most important part. The important part is what I was doing _before_ the traffic jam. You remember R -?"

But she was interrupted by the arrival of Rigsby. "Hey boss," he greeted her. "Got everything ready for you inside."

Under normal circumstances, she knew Rigsby wouldn't have come over if he knew she and Jane were in deep discussion. But the answer lay within the pastry bag dangling from her fingers. Rigsby had the nose of a bear – and right now, was drooling like one too. She sighed and held it out to him. "Take them," she urged. "I can't eat another bite."

"Liar," Jane whispered as they followed Rigsby to the barn. The look he gave her was heavily loaded, and left her unsettled until much later that day.

* * *

'Much later that day' they were all feeling the effects of the usual emotional exhaustion that went along with anything Red John related. Once again Jane had retreated into his own mind, thumbing through his notebook and trekking back and forth between the attic and his couch. She wasn't in a rush to chase after him; he'd no doubt show up once he'd come up with a plan of action.

Ray Haffner's offer had completely slipped her mind for a good portion of the afternoon, and so had Kurt.

Once she remembered them, she found herself suddenly seized by the same questions and doubts that had plagued her earlier.

If she left, she'd be leaving behind a place that had become a home to her. A job that was pretty enjoyable, most of the time, as well as challenging and interesting and something she looked forward to doing every day. She'd be leaving the people, too. Her team. The (few, she admitted) people she'd come to know and like on other teams. She chewed on her lip as she contemplated her role as her unit's leader. Hadn't she always intended to be a better boss to them? To fully prepare them, as well, for moving on?

Cho, for example, was a born leader. He deserved his own unit, and he was ripe for promotion. If she'd been a better boss, wouldn't she have been in his ear constantly, demanding he do the leadership prep seminars and hassling him every time a post came up?

Rigsby, who'd been kept at mid-level for so long, needed to be someone's second-in-command for a change. He needed to be given the responsibility and the opportunity to prove himself; to be the person a unit leader relied upon to get the job done. Given that chance, it wouldn't be long before he, too, would be in line for promotion. If she'd done the right thing by Rigsby, she'd have sent him to another team by now. There had been more than enough senior agent jobs in the last few years.

And Van Pelt…

Lisbon felt that she had failed Van Pelt the most. She'd had the younger agent's file on the very top of her stack of prospective recruits; she had been determined to get her onto the team. And sure enough, Grace had proved herself time and time again. She had the most passion, the most potential and the most ambition of the three agents. She knew she would have to work hard, and she didn't complain – just did it, no matter how many times Lisbon had relegated her to the phones or desk work. Lisbon had intended to take Van Pelt under her wing and be the female mentor she herself had always wanted. She'd planned to get Van Pelt into every course, seminar and training programme, and fast-track her Lisbon-style. Instead, what had happened?

She'd become wrapped up in other things.

Jane, specifically.

And so Van Pelt, who could have been the agent to beat, had not had the level of exposure she required.

Lisbon's heart twisted with guilt. Ray Haffner had called her a trailblazer – he was wrong.

Maybe, she considered gloomily, they would all be better off if she moved on. It would open up the unit leader position for Cho. Rigsby would become senior agent. And Van Pelt was the sort of reflective person who, seeing Lisbon make a change, would be prompted to make a change of her own.

And after all, if she stayed here, wouldn't she just be doing the easy thing? Taking the path of least resistance, so to speak. Perhaps her reluctance to move on was all down to fear – fear that she had become too settled in one job and one role, fear that she would be unable to adapt to new circumstances or be the top dog everyone seemed to consider her to be.

Anxiety fluttered in her belly as she considered walking out of the building for the last time. Never seeing her team again.

Never seeing Jane again.

She didn't know how to feel about that. Jane was another of her failures, after all – a failure in progress. She hadn't 'saved' him, or whatever she thought she could do in the beginning. He was still thoroughly consumed by Red John. He still manipulated people for his own gains. He might have had some sense of loyalty towards her and her team, but she knew – from experience, now – that he'd drop them in a heartbeat if he thought it would get him closer to his goal. She certainly didn't delude herself into thinking that he would be sticking around after it was all over – if he survived, that was. She might have been able to persuade him to stay at the CBI for the purposes of helping others, but it was Red John who'd drawn him in and Red John who still held him there.

Should she really stay for him, only to be let down again in the end?

A sudden, unexpected wave of fatigue hit her, dragging her eyelids down.

She glanced outside her office; the bullpen was quiet, and her team were working solidly. She had some paperwork to do herself, but it could wait.

Feeling only slightly guilty, she made herself comfortable on the large, soft couch that she so rarely used herself. She'd long suspected that Jane had not got it for her, as he'd claimed, but for his own personal use. She slipped her shoes off, sighing a little, and propped her head up with a cushion, closing her eyes. _Just a few minutes_, she thought.

She had just settled into a light, pleasant doze when she was startled suddenly by the sound of her office door opening without a warning knock. She suppressed a sigh; it could only be Jane. She kept quiet and continued to lie there, waiting for him to drop into the seat opposite her and say whatever was on his mind.

Instead, though, she found the light blotted out and something dark bearing down upon her at speed.

Jane's butt.

_Holy crap, he's going to sit on me!_

Unable to vocalise properly, she managed to emit a horrified squawk and raised her hands instinctively to protect herself. Her hands landed on the very body part being presented to her, and with another, higher-pitched sound, she shoved him away… by the butt.

Jane stumbled forward, staggering as he turned to stare at her with shock. "What the…? Lisbon?"

"How did you not see me?" she demanded, sitting up and reaching self-consciously to fix her hair. "I can't believe you nearly sat on me!"

He was gaping at her still, one hand propping him up against the table, the other reaching around to feel his own butt. "You t – I thought you'd be in your desk chair, woman! Your…" He gestured vaguely at her clothes, "Your jacket's a similar colour to the upholstery…"

"But not the rest of me!" She exploded, aware of the growing heat and colour in her cheeks. "Damn it, Jane…"

He'd got over the initial shock and was beginning to smile. "Lisbon touched my butt," he sing-songed. "No – Lisbon _grabbed_ my butt."

"You son of a –" She leapt off the couch, grabbing the nearest file and raising it over her head threateningly.

Immediately, he darted around her and took up residence on the couch himself. "Ah, so much better," he crooned.

She scowled at him. "I knew it," she muttered, tossing the file on the table and trudging back to her desk.

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Okay, so what insights have you come to share?"

"Oh, I don't have any." He looked completely relaxed despite this. "Well, something cooking, but there's still a while to wait."

"Jane," she said, a warning in her voice. "_What_, exactly, is cooking, and why does it make me nervous?"

Instead of answering, he shifted on the couch to fix her with an unwavering stare. "Forget that for a moment. What were you going to tell me earlier? The thing that you did before the coffee shop and the guy?"

She realised with a jolt that she hadn't thought about Kurt at all. Which was interesting, in her book, because if she hadn't been attracted to him she probably wouldn't have felt the jolt at all. Across from her, on the couch, Jane seemed to be following her train of thought; irritated, he snapped his fingers in the air. "Earth to Lisbon."

She shook her head. "Ugh, give me a second, Jane. Okay, _before_ that… I met up with Ra –"

Once again, they were interrupted, this time by a knock on the door. She gestured for whoever was there to come in… and wished she hadn't.

Ray Haffner crossed the room to her desk. "I know I said I'd let you think it over in peace, but…" he handed her a heavy brown envelope, "just thought you should have all the information. Hi, Jane," he greeted, without turning around.

"Ray." Jane was regarding him gravely. "One can only speculate as to the contents of that envelope…"

" 'One' might speculate, Jane, but I'm pretty sure you've got it all figured out," Ray replied irritably. To Lisbon, he said, "I'll look forward to your call."

She nodded at him. "Thanks."

But he didn't leave. Instead, he half-turned to look at Jane. "You up to your usual tricks, Mr Jane?"

Jane narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. See you, Teresa."

Lisbon steeled herself for a barrage of questions and interrogative speculation from Jane as Haffner walked out the door, but was once again saved by an interruption – this time in the form of Van Pelt. "Hey, boss? I think I've found something."

She left the telltale envelope on her desk, knowing that whether or not Jane looked, he would know what was in there anyway.

* * *

What she didn't bank on was him spilling the beans to the team, of course.

She came back from a fruitless trip to the state records office to find them huddled in the bullpen, whispering like children. Jane was nowhere to be seen.

"What's up?" she asked, dumping the single box of relevant items onto Van Pelt's desk. "Something come up?"

To her surprise – and horror – Van Pelt turned to her with watery eyes. "Boss, is it true?"

Lisbon stared at her, dread causing her stomach to sink. "Oh my God, what happened? I was only gone for an hour!"

"No, it's not something like that… well it is, in a way… oh, boss, just tell us – are you leaving?"

Her jaw dropped. "_What_?!" Realisation kicked in. "Damn it, Jane."

Cho's jaw was tight as he folded his arms across his chest. "I didn't believe him at first, but… seems like it could be true."

She shook her head. "I had a job offer, that's all."

"Are you, uh, considering it?" asked Rigsby nervously. "I mean – not that it's any of our business, but… I mean…"

She closed her eyes for a moment, hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she thought about what to say. "Look, uh… I'm thinking about it, but that's all for now. I really don't know what my decision's going to be."

She hadn't really given any thought to how they might react to something like this, but she hadn't expected them to look so… deflated. "Come on, guys," she tried again, injecting a little false cheer into her voice, "it wouldn't be so bad, right? I mean, you guys must have thought about the future, and where you're all going to be in five, ten years' time – I'm sure you've got your own plans? If I leave, Cho could –"

Cho pushed himself away from his desk. "No," he said harshly. "I don't wanna hear that, boss."

"Cho," she reiterated, louder and more firmly this time, "I am not going to let your career stagnate – I'm not going to let that happen to _any_ of you, okay? I l – I love you guys, so just think of this as tough love from me. You all need to move forward. I'm not helping you – I haven't _been_ helping you for a long time, so if this is what it takes, then –"

Cho just shook his head and walked out.

Rigsby's eyes were sad. "Boss, I don't understand – can't you move on within the CBI? What about the Unit Supervisor post? They still don't have a replacement for Wainwright, you could –"

"No," she said softly. "There's… politics involved here, Rigsby. As far as the CBI's concerned, I have two suspensions on my record as well as who knows how many complaints. That's not a problem in this job, but I pretty much can't move any higher right now."

He fumbled for the right words. "But you… I mean, _maybe_…"

Van Pelt put a hand on his arm. "Boss, I understand," she said quietly, "and we'll all support you if you decide to leave, but… _please don't_. I love working for you. I want to keep working for you. I know that's selfish, but it's how I feel, and it's how everybody else feels too."

And before Lisbon could say a word, Van Pelt had her in a tight hug. "It's why Jane told us," she whispered. "At least, I think. So that we would tell you."

Lisbon bit the inside of her cheek as she hugged Van Pelt back. "I'm not so sure about that," she muttered, ignoring the growing tangles of frustration, hurt and hope inside her chest. "But thank you anyway. I'm gonna go look for Cho, okay?"

She found Cho in the basement gym, zooming up and down the rowing machine as though he were navigating the stormy pacific. "Hey," she said, sitting on the machine next to his, lazily pushing herself off the foot stretcher. "You wanna talk to me?"

He slowed gradually, letting go of the handle. He didn't look at her when he said, "I'm sorry, boss. Just figured I'd be working for you for a while longer, that's all."

"And you're really okay with doing that? Cho, you –" She hesitated, then ploughed on. "I worry about you the most. You've been working with me for a hell of a long time. I'm genuinely concerned that I'm holding you back."

He turned to face her and rather unexpectedly, reached out to put a hand on her arm. "Boss, if I wanted to move on, I'd move on."

"Comforting," she said, voice not as steady – or as sarcastic – as she'd hoped. Still, she put a hand on top of his and squeezed it. "When that happens, I'll do whatever it takes to get you where you deserve to be. Same goes for the others. Until then… well, I guess we'll see."

* * *

She'd intended to go looking for Jane after that, but as it turned out, whatever he'd been cooking had exploded in a bad way.

Literally.

So here she was, multitasking as usual – pressing ice to the (thankfully minor) burn sustained by her left leg while running further into the burning building to extract Jane; using her other hand to push the man himself back down onto the paramedics' gurney and keep his oxygen mask in place; and shouting out orders to Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt, who were mercifully unharmed.

Jane had decided to lure his suspect out to the barn in hopes of confronting him at the scene of the crime and securing a confession. What he hadn't banked on was the fact that the CBI presence, in the last 48 hours, had been slowly but steadily pushing Bill Kelby down a steady slope of madness, guilt and grief. He'd gone to the barn intending to burn it down with himself inside, to purge himself and his sins.

Jane had called Lisbon, telling her only that he was heading back to the barn.

She, naturally, drove at considerable speed down the highway with the team in tow, arriving to find the barn already ablaze. She'd known instantly where Jane would be – not just inside, but in the small corner bunker he'd been so fascinated with earlier in the day. Rigsby was already gearing up to go inside, but her heart had pounded, thinking of his little boy. "I know where he'll be!" she'd bellowed. "Stay out here!"

And in she had plunged.

In retrospect, she knew it had been stupid, and that frankly she could have died along with Jane and Kelby. Kelby was already dead by the time she got in there, having sat down next to the accelerant canister as he ignited it; she'd found Jane exactly where she'd expected, grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her until they emerged, coughing and spluttering.

Even now he kept trying to get up. "Will you stay still?" she barked. "You're going to the hospital and no arguments." To Cho, she said, "Is it nearly out?"

"Pretty much, but there's nothing left. Whatever evidence was in there is gone, now." He glanced at her leg. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied. "Rigsby? Van Pelt?"

"Risgby's with forensics, trying to save what they can. Van Pelt's with Kelby's family."

She nodded. "Good. Come back as soon as you're done. I'm going with _him_ to the hospital to make sure he doesn't collapse in a heap somewhere."

"Sure." He paused at the door. "Listen, boss – you knew where he'd be. We didn't. I'm just saying."

"I know. And thanks."

Jane waited until the ambulance was in motion to say, "Hey. Lisbon."

She was half-asleep in the chair opposite the gurney. "Shush," she murmured softly. "Keep your oxygen on."

"I'm fine," he protested, taking the mask all the way off. "The better question is, are you?"

"Me?" She opened her eyes. "It's very minor, Jane, they probably won't even bandage it."

"I'm not talking about that," he snapped, fixing her with a hard look. "I'm talking about this other job you've been weighing up. I suppose saving my sorry behind tonight has made you think about how much simpler your life would be if you left."

She studied his face. "Are you trying to get me to slap you?"

His lips twitched, but his eyes were still serious… and sad. "No doubt it was one of old Ray Haffner's selling points – a Jane-free life. Not to mention a lot less bureaucracy and paperwork. All those things you hate."

Her eyes flashed. "You're fishing, now," she scolded him. "What do you want me to say, Jane? That I don't hate you? That working with you is the best thing ever and never causes me any problems at all? That I would _never_ consider leaving?" She rolled her eyes. "Only one of those things is true. And you don't need me to say anything at all – you already know everything."

"Not everything," he protested, his voice earnest. "_Not everything_, Lisbon. I don't know, for example, what your decision is going to be. I don't… I don't know whether I _want_ to know. And I don't know…" he exhaled slowly, "_what_ on earth I would do if you left."

Something loosened painfully in her chest. She kept her gaze fixed on her feet, but he surprised her by catching hold of her free hand and squeezing it tightly. "Lisbon," he whispered, "I can't do this without you."

"Jane," she started to object, but he squeezed her hand harder – and she felt the tremble underneath. She cast a glance his way… and found the breath sucked from her lungs at the raw desperation on his face. "Jane," she said again, in an entirely different tone.

"I won't work without you," she heard him say. The muscles were tight around his mouth as he repeated himself, only this time she heard the inflection. "I won't _work_ without you."

It was the first time, to her memory, that she had hugged him first.

It occurred to her, seconds after initiating it, that he might not want this kind of intrusion – but his arms slid around her torso and held her in a death grip. She could feel him pressing his face into her shoulder, and the shaky breaths that warmed her neck. "Don't leave me," he whispered.

She held him tighter, her hand resting at the back of his neck. "Okay," she promised, not bothering to blink away the tears in her eyes. "I won't, Jane."

They stayed like that until the ambulance lurched one too many times, and she nearly fell backwards, taking Jane with her. She laughed shakily, swiping at her wet cheeks, and sat back down in her seat. Jane lay on his side. He didn't take his eyes off her once.

It was the next morning by the time she called Ray to inform him of her decision. It was already warm in her office, and looked to be shaping up for another sunny day. Jane had been following her around for the last half an hour, demanding to know if she had called Haffner yet, until she had deliberately emptied his tin of teabags over the counter to distract him and escaped to her own office to make the call.

The team had been doing their own little things, too. A stack of paperwork had disappeared from her desk only to be returned with Cho's signature on the completed forms. A bear claw had been deposited in her office with a cup of her favourite coffee. And Van Pelt had been alternating between signing up for every seminar known to man (or cop) and hugging her out of the blue.

She didn't know if Jane had told them or if the wide grin on his face had done the talking instead.

She just knew that she was happy, and that she had made the right decision.

As for Kurt…

She glanced through the window to the kitchenette, where Jane was hastily scooping his teabags back into the tin.

Well, she'd probably be kidding herself.

So she tracked him down online, and mailed the dry cleaning ticket back to him with a note of apology.

After all, she reflected to herself, as Jane began hammering on her office door demanding retribution, what on earth did she want with a normal life anyway?

She yanked the office door open. "Shut it, Jane, you're being a pest – oh, they are _not_ contaminated, for crying out loud, you're such a _girl_…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Arrghh, I'm not totally happy with that conversation between Jane and Lisbon, or the ending, but hey, there it is. I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading!


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